(Image via Financial Times Live)
Having my summers off, I have a little extra time to read parenting articles and reflect upon my own practices as a parent. Recently, I read an article regarding how parents create a "voice" for their children that follows them into adulthood. Word choice and tone play important roles in shaping this voice and molds each of us into who we are and how we think about ourselves long after we leave the nest. Applying this to my own life, I cannot help but to think about how I was raised. My parents are great people. They are loving, kind, and generous. People think very highly of them, and they are always there when any of their children need them. I couldn’t have have made it through this last year in a sane manner without them. However, my parents hail from the Silent Generation, which was very different than the parents of my peers growing up. I had the “old” parents compared to all of my friends, which meant we had more strict rules, expectations, and guidelines of behavior than others my age.
As I reflect, I believe it also impacted their parenting style and the voices that we heard from them. I truly believe my parents did their absolute best: we were loved and were never wanting for any necessity. I also believe that their generation shaped who I am today. The voice that directs and guides me isn’t always the most nurturing or compassionate. It doesn’t always leave me with warm thoughts or enshrouded in love. I frequently doubt myself and worry way too much that others are judging me or that I am making a wrong decision. Sometimes I’m riddled with guilt when I probably shouldn’t be. I’m afraid to take risks and make changes when new opportunities for growth present themselves. I know that I want a different voice to be leading my children throughout their lives--one that is kind and full of compassion; one that encourages them to take risks and embrace growth and change; one that lets them know that no matter how many times they fall, I will always be there to help them back up and support them. I want my voice to lead them to find their own voice.
Sometimes I wish I could pry open my little two-year-old’s mind and just get a peek at what’s whirling around in his brain. I watch him and think: What will he be when he grows up? How does he hear my voice and what does it say to him? Will I be there to find out? As I wait for the courts to decide where he will spend the rest of his life, I think about how much influence I have had or can have on him now. During his time with me, have I given him a voice that inspires confidence, growth, compassion, love, and adventure? Have I (as I sometimes find myself doing) squashed his little spirit because I’m too focused on him being safe and following the rules...MY rules? Have I let him find his own voice rather than always having to rely on mine?
Sometimes, I catch glimpses of the voices he hears from me. When we have been apart, even if it’s only for five or ten minutes, he exclaims with delight, “I’m so happy to see you!” This is what I say to him every time he returns home from a visit with his biological parents. I hear him encouraging his little sister when the two of them are playing together. I have witnessed him making a mistake or spilling something and saying, “It’s not a big deal; I can fix it!” I watch him greet people that we meet as we are walking or playing on the playground. When he gets the cold shoulder, he doesn't give up (although my heart hurts for him!) He greets the next person in the same friendly manner. I watch him opening doors for people (and the struggle is real when those doors are heavy!) or thanking someone without me even having to prompt him. Today, he thanked a couple of workmen at the house before I even had the opportunity to do the same. I hear warmth, love, kindness, confidence, and compassion echoing in his two-year-old voice.
There are also times that the voice I hear isn’t so positive. Sometimes, I can just feel myself nagging or over-parenting a little too much. He feels it too, as he will let out an exasperated sigh and say, “I’m so frustrated!” In those moments, I try and check myself and the voice that he hears from me (unless of course it is truly a safety issue...then he just has to deal with that voice!)
I have been tasked with raising this amazing little soul with a wild spirit and rambunctious energy. I don’t know how much longer I will have this blessed opportunity, and I want to make the most of every joyous and challenging moment. At times, I have to make a choice to change the voice I use so the one I want him to hear will be the one he carries with him no matter what the outcome of our situation. It means I must be intentional with my words and choose when to say something or when to let him experience something. Sometimes saying nothing at all is an even more powerful voice than the one that is speaking. Today, I intentionally choose to give him a voice that allows him to find himself and all that he can be in this world; a voice that gives him both wings to fly and roots to ground him. This may be the greatest gift I can ever bestow upon him.